


White

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Mind Control, and hahtag i do what i want, arguable animal abuse, but hash tag magic, prepare for a really long and really abstract metaphor, that most likely does not make sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 17:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18945661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Lessons in strength, control, and trust.Love and Other FairytalesVerse





	White

_Lesson number one: a weak hand drops even the lightest weight._

* * *

“Weak?” said Patton. He’d never heard his own voice sound so flat.

“Yes,” said White. Her voice was as placid and airy as ever.

“I don’t. That… ma'am, I’m afraid I don’t understand,”

Patton could never have imagined this scene until he was experiencing it – what White was telling him wasn’t even the strangest part.

He was alone with her, for one, an experience Patton had been petrified of for most of his life. He had his back to her, and her hands were drawing through his hair. He was hopelessly exposed.

The memories of White from the first – and for a long time, the  _only –_ time Patton had met her had  _seemed_  perfectly clear. Shockingly so. Her towering frame, her blank eyes, her form seeming insubstantial as choking smoke.

But the fae woman behind him, not filtered through years of fear, was only barely recognizable as the same creature.

Taller than him, yes, taller than anybody he knew, but she didn’t loom. She kneeled to speak to him, or sat down, and sometimes morphed into the white thing and sat silently near him, like a particularly alarming-looking cat.

Her eyes were blank but they weren’t  _vacant –_ they looked like clouds, soft and feathery.

She bordered on incorporeal but it was less ominous and more surreal, like she was part dream, or as if she was just on the edge of evaporating.

And every time she spoke to Patton, or touched his hair, she  _felt_  soft, and cloudy, and all dreams. It was obvious in every move she made.

White  _adored_  him.

It was, to put it bluntly,  _really_  freaky.

“I don’t understand how you can think my- voice is weak. It – nobody’s  _ever_  ignored it,”

“That is precisely how I know it,” she said.

Patton huffed, maybe a bit petulantly.

“What can you lift, with your arms?” said White, and her voice was a little more solid.

“Um-” Patton considered.

“A few bags of groceries? Um- I think a five gallon bucket of apples is about as much as I can handle,”

“And if you were weaker, and you tried to carry these things, what would happen?”

“Well- I guess I’d drop them,”

White didn’t speak again. Patton hesitated, considering.

“I’m… dropping? Things?”

“Yes,” said White, “How does a muscle become strong enough to carry greater burdens?”

“You-” Patton’s throat constricted.

“You use it,” he said, a little strangled, “You practice,”

“Very good,” said White, and her hands undid the tiny braid she’d been weaving and straightening over and over again, impossibly gentle.

“So what do I-?”

White touched his cheek, so he turned to look at her.

“Now,” she said, “We practice,”

* * *

_Lesson number two: true gentleness cannot be careless; it must be precise._

* * *

Patton’s hands were shaking. White insisted that the robins had volunteered to help. Patton was mostly sure he believed her. But he still couldn’t check for himself, and he had to rely entirely on White to let him know if that changed.

Maybe most people wouldn’t have been concerned with the consent of songbirds, but Patton had principles, even if they were maybe a little silly.

“C’mere,” he said, the effort to willingly, deliberately give an order still borderline painful, and the largest robin jerked like he had a lead around his neck. His little clawed feet skittered across the table Patton sat at, until he lurched into Patton’s palm and came to a stop, ruffling his feathers.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” said Patton, instantly, smoothing the feathers down with his knuckles, “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

White cocked her head, paused, and then spoke.

“He is fine, sweet Patton,” she said.

“Did I hurt him?”

“Yes,” said White, and it was like getting punched in the mouth.

Patton hunched in on himself, trying not to cry.

“You are rather blunt,” said White, breezy and calm. “You wield your voice as a hammer,”

She cupped her hands around Patton’s, so they were both holding the robin.

“It was obvious you did not want him to come to you,” she said, “And so it was if you had closed your eyes and thrown something at him,”

Patton snorted before he could stop himself, and White’s expression didn’t change, but Patton got the sense she had found it endearing.

“You must look,” she said gently, “You must be aware of your own power,”

“I’m  _always_  aware,” said Patton, maybe just a touch petulant.

“No, you are not,” said White, “You pretend. You ignore it. You hope that by denying it, it will cease to exist,”

Patton swallowed thickly.

The silence stretched, both their hands still around the bird.

“I regret the pain that you suffer,” said White. Patton closed his eyes.

“It causes me great sorrow,” she said. Patton had no idea how her voice could be so serene while saying something like that.

There was another long moment of silence, and then she tipped their hands so the bird fluttered out of them.

“Again, dear Patton,” she said, “Do not flinch,”

He did anyway. But at least this time, he looked.

* * *

_Lesson number three: courage is helpful. Faith is necessary. They are often the same thing._

* * *

“Go through the tube,” said Patton. Cooed, really. The helpers today were field mice, and Patton let out a shuddering sigh of equal parts relief and terror when the mouse calmly walked through the tube, looking for all the world like it had been her own idea.

“Very good,” said White quietly. Patton smiled, though it probably didn’t look very sincere.

They were sitting on the floor, across from each other. Patton was cross-legged and White had her own legs stretched out beside her. Various tubes and boxes and other contraptions were sitting between them, the mice now sitting idly.

“You are shaking,” said White.

“Sorry,” said Patton.

“It is not a behavior for which you need to apologize,” she said. Patton shrugged.

She was… watching him, still tranquil as a frozen pond but far more steady than her usual expression. Patton didn’t know what he expected her to say, but it certainly wasn’t what actually came out of her mouth.

“List for me,” said White, “The people you know who are not afraid of you,”

Patton frowned, picking a loose thread on his pants.

“It’s a short list, ma’am,” he said.

“Then it should be an easy task,” she replied simply.

Patton blew his breath out.

“You. Virgil and Logan. Roman, I think,” he considered.

“Ms. Gage? Um-” he almost said his parents, but he was… he was actually pretty sure they were, at least a little.

“That’s it,” he said quietly, “I told you, ma’am it’s- it’s not a lot,”

For a long moment, White watched him, her face as impassive and placid as ever.

“You did not list yourself,” she said quietly.

Patton throat clogged. He understood that he’d made a mistake as far as the lessons went – but it wasn’t like he could argue the point.

“No, ma’am, I didn’t,” he said quietly.

White was still watching.

“Do you know why I gave you this gift?”

“Because I was polite,” said Patton, automatically, “And shy. You wanted to help me not be,”

“These things are correct,” said White, “They are still correct,”

Patton shrugged helplessly.

“I meant to give you courage,” she said, “So you would see yourself clearly. Know your own worth,”

“I don’t understand,”

“That is justified,” she said.

She leaned forward slightly, placing her broad-palmed hands on Patton’s face, and he realized, faintly, that he really wasn’t afraid at all.

“You are kind,” she said, “You weep for the animals when you hurt them. You are gentle and good, and yes, polite. There is no better person to bear this. Your grief pains me, but I would give the child you were the gift again, if given the chance,”

Patton’s eyes were stinging, and White was blurring in his vision.

“If given the chance,” she said, “All I would change is that I did not help you sooner. But that is my burden, not yours,”

“You have done nothing wrong,” she said, and her voice was the most solid he’d ever heard it. “And it is time you forgave yourself for mistakes the were not yours to begin with,”

She laid a kiss on Patton’s forehead, and the tears spilled over.

* * *

Revels were one of Patton’s favorite days of the month, second only to the days Virgil could manage to get away from the court and Patton could go back in town and spend the day with his parents and at least be  _around_  other humans.

Virgil and Logan were doing some sort of experiment, trying to see how long they could get a sunbeam and a shadow to occupy the same spot without one of them wavering. Looking directly at it was giving Patton a headache, so he and Roman had retreated a few yards away. White was sitting with them, Patton in the middle, and she was watching the fire absently and not really participating in the conversation.

“Can you really read palms or are you picking on me?” giggled Patton.

“On my honor, it says you are the cutest person in existence,” said Roman, the grin on his face not remotely convincing.

“Picking,” Patton chastised.

“Never,” laughed Roman, “And it’s much better than my own palms, all they say is that I don’t know how to use gloves when doing yard work,”

Roman indicated his own palms, callous and braised with dozens of shallow scrapes. Now that his attention had been brought to it, Roman had startled distractedly picking at one of the longer ones.

“Don’t pick,” Patton admonished, “They never heal that way,”

“I do what I want,” said Roman, sticking his tongue out playfully. One of his nails caught the edge of the scrape and then he was bleeding. He pouted.

“What did I tell you!” giggled Patton, digging around in his pocket for something to press to Roman’s hand. He didn’t notice that Roman had gone very quiet.

“You did tell me,” said Roman very softly.

“Hmm?”

“ _Patton_ ,” said Roman, tilting Patton’s face up with his free hand, “You told me not to pick at my hand,”

Patton blinked, uncomprehending, until his chest seized and his eyes flew wide.

“Holy  _shit_ ,” he blurted, and it had barely left his mouth before Roman let out a victorious whoop and leapt to his feet, pulling Patton with him and spinning him in dizzying circles.

They wobbled to a stop, both of them laughing hysterically. Logan and Virgil were watching them, confused and maybe a bit alarmed.

White was watching too, an ecstatic smile splashed across her face, her teeth and the pride in her eyes both gleaming.

Roman pressed a kiss to the pale hand print on Patton’s neck, and Patton did not flinch.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [ tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors ](%E2%80%9Dtulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) over on tumblr and i'm always down to talk about this verse so feel free


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